We need to rethink the term “ethnic foods” and how we discuss global cuisines.
Growing up in Cambridge, MA, in the 90s, the ethnic foods aisle of our local Bread & Circus grocery store was the place you shopped when you were looking for spices other than salt and pepper. The aisle you perused when you craved a departure from classic Americana meals like tomato soup and grilled cheese, the aisle that held fragrant flavors like turmeric, geera, cloves, nutmeg, and chili peppers. It was a familiar place for a child like me, one who regularly traveled outside of the U.S. and enjoyed food.
My mother and father are from the English and Creole-speaking Caribbean. Growing up, my mother’s home was often filled with radical academic feminist women from all over the world sharing political conversation over a meal, and my dad’s house was the place that Haitian doctors, lawyers, and academics gathered to eat. When my parents shopped, they were looking for flavors that could provide comfort to their guests.
This is common among other cultures: When we seek comfort food, we mean the flavors and smells that viscerally transport us back to our place of origin. But for anything other than American, all of those worldly flavors are neatly packed into one aisle labeled “Ethnic Foods.” This label doesn’t define everything in that aisle in the slightest and isn’t welcoming to those looking for new food and taste experiences. Why would grocery stores intentionally minimize and limit the opportunity to savor foods from overseas?
What does “ethnic food” even mean?
The NIH describes culture as the values, beliefs, and social behaviors that are shared within a group; these variables have a direct impact on a person’s lived experience. This description would provide clarity and understanding that everyone is part of a group with shared values and beliefs and has a cultural identity. It also highlights the social inequities that historically marginalized groups experience. Additionally, dominant groups have the tendency to categorize cultural groups as monolithic; however, there are many nuances among cultural groups.
Ethnicity, like race, is a social construct centered around categorizing people based on perceived differences, such as how a person looks. People who identify with a particular ethnic group may share heritage and culture. Foodways are the intersection of culture, history, and economy around food.
If Anglo-American and Anglo-European people are not the dominant group, the foods associated with these groups would be considered, ethnic food. The National Collaborating Centre For Environmental Health notes that defining “ethnic food” is dependent on both the location as well as the culture where the cuisine is found. It’s usually the dominant culture that defines what’s categorized as ethnic food; the majority group often names foods that are outside of their norm as ethnic foods. In North America, food from Latin America, The Caribbean, Africa, and Asia are considered ethnic food.
Ethnic food as “unhealthy”
In the realm of American health, wellness, and nutrition, there’s an unspoken understanding that dominant Anglo-American and Anglo-European flavors drive the social norms and food trends that determine what ends up on your plate. We have ingested the narrative and unknowingly agreed that foods from Latin America, The Caribbean, Africa, and parts of Asia are the other, which means they’re essentially different and unhealthy. They’re subject to scrutiny and not afforded the same respect as North America and Western Europe.
Food is political. What we eat, our access to food, and our values in relation to “good” and “bad” food reflect decades of fear-based systemic and structural injustice directed toward people from marginalized identities. The adage that Anglo-American values are American values stands at the center of this polarizing conversation around food.
If Anglo-American values are American values, it would lead me to believe that anyone outside of this dominant group isn’t valued. In my experience as a credentialed food and nutrition professional, I see the disparaging and damaging ways that cultures that are not American are depicted. In addition, patients of mine from marginalized identities share that they’re often made to feel less than in relation to cisgender, heterosexual, Anglo-American, and Anglo-European people. A shared experience that has been recounted by a number of patients is the shame of bringing a fragrant home-cooked meal to school as a child or being scrutinized in office settings for packing “smelly foods.” Why can’t they be more American?
Class and social hierarchy are intertwined as dominant groups define what we think of as poor people’s food and what qualifies as haute cuisine. In the United States eating a burger, fries, and soda is declasse, however, eating a filet mignon, baked potato, and a glass of wine is socially acceptable. Both are a part of American culture however, the former comes with guilt and shame and is usually associated with historically marginalized groups, specifically Black, Indigenous, and Latinx peoples.
Centuries of intentionally displacing and rearranging where and how people of color live have resulted in limited access to a wide variety of culturally relevant nourishing food options. Heritage foods have been replaced by lower-cost options that we now associate with people of color.
What we’re missing out on
Food, like history and culture, is linked to identity. Many of us eat for who we aspire to be. In the United States, social hierarchy encourages us to idealize the dominant food culture and minimize foods that are outside of the norm. Heritage foods are nostalgic and born of shared history and lived experience. As we move around the world, flavors shift by region and there’s so much to learn via our taste buds. Eating new foods and exploring the flavors of someone else’s home can serve as the first step in decolonizing one’s plate. Think about all that you’re missing when you resign yourself to living solely on steamed vegetables, grilled chicken, brown rice, and water.
So, what can you add to your plate? How can you invite new flavors, how can you liberate both your tastebuds and mind, and step out of reductive thinking around food? What are the ways that you can sidestep fear and invite the world into your home? For now, try exploring cookbooks and stocking your pantry with new tastes and flavors. Your tummy will thank you!
Maya Feller, MS, RD, CDN, of Brooklyn-based Maya Feller Nutrition, is a nationally recognized registered dietitian nutritionist. She received her master’s of science in clinical nutrition at New York University. Maya shares her approachable, real-food-based solutions through regular speaking engagements, writing in local and national publications, and as a nutrition expert on Good Morning America. Her cookbook, EATING FROM OUR ROOTS, was recently published by Rodale Books, an imprint of Random House Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC.
